No One Gets To Heaven If They Don’t Go Through Hell .

The reason most people never reach their goals is that they don’t define them, or ever seriously consider them as believable or achievable. Winners can tell you where they are going, what they plan to do along the way, and who will be sharing the adventure with them. – Dennis Watley

As someone once said, the best thing about Poipet on the Cambodian side of the Thai – Cambodian border, is leaving it. Besides my mother’s “don’t touch that hotplate” advice that I subsequently didn’t take when I was 7, this is possibly the best I have ever been given. Poipet in its own special way whispers silent encouragement “get out”, almost like the ghost in those stupid haunted house movies where we all know what happens when they don’t listen. There are a few ways to use this encouragement. The first is to get a bus that takes approximately 5 years to get to Siam Reap via Egypt, Sydney and The Moon. The next is to jump onto the back of a pick-up and tie yourself to any fixed point possible, introduce yourself to the other 30 people and swallow some panadeine forte. The last, and only realistic one, sub-divides into two more choices. There are lots and lots of Toyota Camrys scattered about the side of the “road” in Poipet. They are all Toyota Camrys and there is no exception to this rule. They are taxis. Some of them are independently owned and some are what is left of the slowly dying out, but still a strong force all the same, Association taxis.

Association taxis are remnants of not so long ago (before the Cambodian government noticed tourists had money) where a large racket between hotels and taxis were controlled by a handful of gun toting ex-Khmer Rouge thugs that would drive you to Siam Reap via 4 mafia controlled shops, 2 bandit ambushes and finally to the mafia controlled, bed bug infested hotel just far enough outside of Siam Reap that you had to use the taxi each day to see anything. Although these days the government keeps a close eye on these activities, they still manage to threaten the independent drivers and anyone who tries to use them. For this reason the independent operators will not drive you all the way to Siam Reap and stop short a town or two before. Therefore Association Taxis are the only real choice you have. For US$40 we agreed with the tout that the taxi a) would take us to our hotel in Siam Reap, b) take the quickest route there for no more than US$40, and c) that there was no chance in hell he was getting in the taxi with us. He agreed and took our money, yelled at the driver, and off we drove. It took a little under 4 hours to get to Siam Reap via a mostly unsealed dirt road that appears to be in the middle of a major facelift, and rightly so. The road is becoming a major tourist route to reach the Angkor Temples at Siam Reap, forcing the government to pull its socks up and come to the party with a road that can handle the growing bus and taxi traffic.

The taxi driver pulled up next to a bunch of tuk-tuk drivers who pounced on us with all the fantastic $1 per night bed bug hostels they knew about. I pulled out the All Knowing Holy Commanded Law of Crossing bit of paper and looked at the final point, Peace of Angkor Guest House. I showed it to the tuk-tuk driver who looked at it as if I were presenting a worm wearing a clown nose singing Sweet Child O’ Mine dressed in a tutu. I pulled the Lonely Planet almost-map of Siam Reap out of my pocket and pointed. “Ahhh, Peace of Angkor Guest House!” he said in almost perfect English. We arrived to smiling faces and helpful hands where we were shown to our room. One of the young lads that works at the guest house asked “Where are you from?” Here we go again, I thought, “Australia” I said. “Oh, I come from near there” he replied. “Really?” I said, “where?”

“Cambodia” he said back with a cheeky grin. Touché, I was going to like this place.

Wild Wild East.

Q: How many people can you fit in a Cambodian car?

A: Shut up and get in

If there is a place in the world you have ever been, where you wish you never had, and would never go again, but god damn it you were so high on adrenalin that it was worth every second, then crossing the border from Aranya Prathet, Thailand through to Poipet, Cambodia would be it. It started with Shorty’s mobile phone playing Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back” in my ear at 4am on Friday. I had drunk a little the night before, as you do in Bangkok, and JT’s jingle wasn’t on my list of things to experience at that time, nor was being awake. I switched it off, kissed Shorty good morning and hit the shower. We had a tuk-tuk to grab to Morchit Bus Station by 5:30am. Today we were going to Siam Reap, Cambodia. The planning that went into this leg of the trip was immense, no detail was left out. We researched, re-researched, and re-re-researched the crossing until we had it in point form on a piece of paper and in our heads. If you are ever feeling stupid, lucky and craving a rush then decide to ever do this, your first stop should be Travelfish. Yes, I’m giving you real advice here. Don’t try it without reading it.

The bus to Aranya Prathet on the Thai border was pretty uneventful and we slept most of it. It cost around 207 baht each, which is about $8, for a first class coach with no stops and a plastic wrapped piece of bread with sugar and butter on it. Bargain. In 4 and a bit hours we made it. This is where the fun started. There are a few scams you have to get past when going from Thailand to Cambodia via this route. The first one is when you get off the bus and 70 people want to carry your backpack to the tuk-tuk 5 meters away. Then the tuk-tuk driver takes you not to the border, but to his mates who are waiting near the Cambodian Consulate which is about 4 clicks from the actual border crossing. They tell you they can organize your visa from the Consulate and after a few hours hanging out with them while one runs to the consulate to get it, and a few thousand baht later, you have a visa. If you’re lucky.

Our driver pulled over and I knew what was up thanks to our heavy research. A little guy came over and asked for our passports and said we won’t get through otherwise. I said no, we’ll walk from here as I’ve crossed the border 6 times before (calling his bluff and lying through my teeth). The dumbarse then said “Well if you have crossed 6 times then you know that isn’t the border, it is consulate.” Zing, he knew he fucked up. I looked at the tuk-tuk driver and he knew exactly what to do; drive us to the border like we asked or don’t get paid. At the real border we were swarmed by people, we put our heads down and walked into the Thai departure office. I had planned also for this swarming. The swarm mostly consists of extremely cute kids who are highly trained experts at parting you with the contents of your pocket. My pocket contained three pieces of paper about the size of a US dollar note, each with the word “naughty” written on it. When we reached the departure office they were all missing. Bless. We joined the “Foreigners” line like the sign told us and were through in no time. There is a funny little no-man’s land between both borders. An expanse of Wild Western style dusty streets with wilder and dustier people walking around in it, with two massive casinos on each side. This is where Thais come to squander all the hard earned baht away.

On the other side we walked up to the Cambodian immigration window, to the left were about 50 seats all full of people with disgruntled looks on their faces. Shorty was told to stand outside as she, obviously being a woman, was incapable of handing a passport to a man who is incapable of fathoming Shorty being capable of handling his incapabilities. So I stepped forward with hers and my own passports in hand. A Cambodian Police officer on the outside of the window said to me “2000 baht” which translates roughly to US$40. Above him in English that is easier to read than a Dick & Jane book is a sign saying “Tourist Visa = US$20, Business Visa = US$30”. I looked at the sign, then back at the officer and with my brain trying to tell my mouth he had a Glock 17 pistol holstered to his waist said in a (completely fake) confident and clear voice “It says US$20 up there, not 2000 baht.” He replied, a little more firmly “No, no accept US dollar here, only baht, 2000 baht.” This was absolute rubbish. The Cambodian Riel has dived so deeply into invaluability that the Cambodians have literally adopted the US dollar as a currency and use the Riel for change when something (rarely) drops under US$1. They have contempt for Thailand and do not accept baht anywhere in the country. I pulled out the single US$50 note I had stashed in my Pacsafe bumpack, (yes more real advice, don’t travel without one) held it up and said “Well that’s unfortunate as all I have is this and I need 2 visas.” He waved me through to the window.

At the window the high ranking officer sat with a coffee, a cigarette burning away in an ashtray, and a pile of passports sitting next to his gun on a table. He leaned close and took our passports then said “100 baht and I will make fast for you.” I had pushed things far enough at this point, so I handed him 100 baht with a look on my face that explained quite clearly to him how much distaste I have for the current situation and his actions within it. He put my passports on the pile and waved me off. I stood back, lit a cigarette and watched. He finished his smoke and coffee in a relaxed way, laughing with the other officers in the small dinky little office. They occasionally looked outside, then continued their humorous banter. After about 5 minutes he turned to the passports, opened Shorty and mine, licked a stamp and stuck them in. He waived me back and passed them to me, then waived me off, all while continuing his fantastically funny recountings to his comrades. We walked past the disgruntled non-100 baht-paying 50 and jumped into an association (nice word for taxi mafia) taxi.